


eager to please, ready to serve

by sanzuh



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dry Humping, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Hand Jobs, Mildly Dubious Consent, Or Is It?, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, season 8 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27893971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanzuh/pseuds/sanzuh
Summary: The Lady of Winterfell has noticed how the King in the North's intellectual capacities have dwindled with all of his blood constantly flowing south because of his permanent state of arousal. Unbeknownst to the Lady Sansa, she is the cause of the King's predicament. Worried how his condition will affect their political negotiations with the Dragon Queen's advisors, she decides to take matters into her own hands and attempts to bring the King some much-needed relief.ORSansa attempts to cure Jon of his permanent Sansa boner without realising it's a Sansa boner.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 160





	eager to please, ready to serve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alzerak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alzerak/gifts), [doks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doks/gifts).



> Set in a season 8 AU where boatbang and kneelgate never happened.

Jon hasn't been himself lately. In the past, Sansa has more than once found herself rolling her eyes at an idea of his or a remark he made, but overall, she believes he is a good ruler; she has faith in him.

Lately though, he has seemed absent during meetings, barely participating or mostly following Sansa's lead when decisions need to be made, though she suspects he would rarely be able to repeat her position on matters when asked, but worst of all, when he does engage more actively, he tends to focus on unrelated details or make comments that have the other council members raise their eyebrows or exchange doubtful looks.

At first, Sansa was puzzled by this sudden change in Jon's demeanour and capacities, but she believes she may have discovered the cause of his condition.

When he embraced her in the courtyard on the day of his return, she felt something hard poking her hip. That first time, she didn't realise what it was, believing it to be a dagger or some other blade.

She found it odd, after noticing it a couple more times, during another hug, or when she accidentally bumped into him to jump away from a pair of Dothraki, and that one time he pressed the front of his body against her back to show her how to use a bow, but she didn't truly give it much thought.

But then, one time, during supper she glanced down and her eyes spied the tent in his breeches, and suddenly it was all she could think about.

Whenever she felt it after that, heat and wetness pooled between her legs, but she told herself she was being a fool. Whatever was the cause of Jon's seemingly almost permanent state of arousal, she was certain it wasn't her.

They've been sharing a bed again since he has returned from Dragonstone, as they used to do before he left, and Sansa has more than once risen from that bed with a bruise on one of her arse cheeks.

One time, when she woke up in the middle of the night, she felt him hot and hard against her backside, and she was unable to resist pushing her hips back and wiggling her arse, which made him groan.

Still asleep, he placed a firm hand on her thigh and started rocking his hips. She shifted back and arched her back, so his cock was more snugly cradled between her arse cheeks, even with the barriers of her night rail and his smallclothes separating them.

She pushed her arse back to meet his thrusts, and he moaned, digging his fingers into her thigh. They kept going until his sudden, sharp intake of breath alerted her that he was awake, and his movements slowed.

She didn't allow herself to falter, continuing the steady undulating of her hips, and even throwing in a sleepy whimper to encourage him, and soon he fell back into their rhythm.

His hips stuttered, and a muffled cry and a sudden warm wetness on her lower back betrayed that he had reached his climax. 

Sansa kept rolling her hips until he stilled them with his hand as he panted into her shoulder.

"Sansa?" he asked softly, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder, but she feigned a soft snore and hummed contentedly, and she heard him release a relieved sigh before he turned his back to her.

Later, when she was certain he was fast asleep again, she slipped a hand between her thighs to find herself soaking wet, slippery and swollen. She circled her nub with two fingers, imagining it was Jon who was touching her, until she also found her release.

Despite her own feelings of guilt and shame, Sansa noticed that Jon appeared much more alert the following day, and that was what prompted her to consider what she is about to do.

Today's meeting with the Dragon Queen and her advisors will be crucial for the future of the North. Sansa desperately needs Jon to be on his best behaviour, so she has asked him to meet her half an hour earlier in the council room.

She's not doing this because of any kind of selfish, wanton desire. She's doing it for Jon, and for the good of the North. 

He's already there when she enters, and one glimpse at his lap tells her he is once again suffering from another instance of uncontrollable arousal. 

Knowing what she's about to do, she finds it hard to tear her eyes away from the tent in his breeches, and Jon's face flushes a deep red when he catches her staring at it.

"Sansa," he mutters. _San-zuh. Gods,_ how do his voice and the way he says her name manage to send a jolt of pleasure straight to her core? That doesn't matter right now though.

"Push your chair back," she orders him.

He gives her a puzzled look, but obeys quickly.

"Open your legs."

He does, even as his mouth falls open and he starts stammering, "Wh-what?"

She kneels between his thighs and reaches for the lacings of his breeches. 

"What are you doing, Sansa?" he asks her, covering her hands with his own.

"I'm helping you with your little problem," she explains, gently pushing his hands away.

"It's not little," he grumbles as she unfastens his smallclothes.

"I-I can see that," she mutters, licking her lips as his big hard cock springs free.

She looks up at his face again. "This meeting is important, Jon," she reminds him. "You need to be able to focus. And you can't focus when all your blood is down here," she continues, pointing her chin at his erection, "instead of in your brain."

* * *

Despite his shock and confusion, Jon has come to the conclusion that he must be dreaming. If he wasn't, he would be--should be objecting to what Sansa is about to do. She's sitting between his legs, and the look of determination in her big blue eyes is making his cock twitch.

He briefly wonders how this dream Sansa has discovered his shameful secret. He wants her, he wants her so much he's barely able to function, even though she is his sister.

"Sansa," he says, not sure if he is trying to explain himself to her, warn her or beg her. He realizes how weak he is when he hears himself whisper, "Sansa, please."

She licks her lips as she eyes his cock and wraps her cold fingers around his shaft, circling the head with her thumb, spreading some of the liquid that has started to bead up at the tip.

His eyes almost roll back at the overload of sensations. Sansa is touching him, and that knowledge alone is almost enough to unman him. This doesn't feel like a dream. 

"Sansa?" he asks her as she pumps her fist up and down his length, squeezing him at the tip. "Are you real? Are you really doing this? It's not a dream?"

"It's not a dream," she confirms.

"Really?" he asks, a slow grin pulling up his lips as his eyes flutter closed.

"You shouldn't be doing this," he whispers wistfully, blinking to look at her. 

She lowers her eyes. "I know," she mumbles. "But I have to."

He doesn't understand. "I want you to do this though," he babbles."I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

He doesn't want this to end, but now that he has realized that this is not a dream, he's painfully aware that the other participants of the upcoming meeting will be arriving anytime now.

"Don't be such a tease," he tells her as she speeds up and grips him more tightly, only to slow down and loosen her hold a minute later.

She glances up at him and frowns. She releases him and he groans and pouts at the loss of her touch.

She inclines her head and then she's closing her plump pink lips over his cock.

"Sansa!" he cries out. "Oh gods!"

Her mouth is hot and wet and her tongue is everywhere, swirling around the head, dragging up and down his length, circling him. He lifts his hands to card his fingers through her hair, rubbing her temples with his thumbs.

She looks up at him, her blue eyes wide and dark, her lips so pretty and pink where they are wrapped around his cock. Her head bobs up and down as he gently starts to guide her movements.

Once again, he finds himself wishing that this doesn't have to end, that they still have hours, that perhaps after this, he can return the favour, not that he would would think of it as a favour, he's been dreaming about tasting her cunt. But even then, he'd want more. He's a greedy man, he thinks as he imagines how maybe he could bury himself inside her cunt and make her peak around his cock, spill his seed inside of her or maybe on her tits.

She moans around the head of his cock and starts sucking him off harder, and he can already feel his balls tightening up. He doesn't want this to end, but they don't have any time left, so he surrenders to her attentions and to his oncoming release, until waves of pleasure pump his seed into her lovely mouth.

She seems startled by his climax, but she swallows everything he has given her, and as he slumps back in his chair, panting and wiping the sweat off his brow, he concludes that her surprise must mean she's never done this before. The thought that his cock is the first one she's had in her mouth is doing things to him, things he doesn't have time to consider right now. _Gods,_ he wants his cock to be the only one to ever get inside that pretty pink mouth. That thought isn't going to help him much either though.

"There," she tells him as she pushes herself to her feet. "You're all set now."

He is not quite sure what that is supposed to mean, but he quickly tucks himself back into his breeches. He's finished just in time for the meeting.

As the others start filing in, he looks over to Sansa, and to his horror--which is two-fold, as the sight is incredibly arousing to him, but he doesn't want anyone else to see it--he notices a drop of milky white seed still sticking to the left corner of her mouth.

He clears his throat to get her attention. "Sansa," he murmurs quietly, "there's... You have a bit of... Just wipe--

He wipes the right corner of his own mouth and she copies him, but gets the wrong side, forcing him to reach out and wipe away the last evidence of his climax himself. Her cheeks blush a hot, deep red.

Jon stares at her. She had her dainty fingers wrapped around his cock only minutes ago, he spilled his seed inside her sweet, clever mouth only moments ago, but a brush of his fingers across the soft skin of her cheek is what makes her blush. She'll be the death of him, Jon muses, as he already feels heat coiling in his loins again.


End file.
